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"Tango IX: Running
your hand over it

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to calculate its
dimensions, you think

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at first it is stone,
then ink, or black water

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where the hand sinks in, then
a bowl of elsewhere from which

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you pull out no hand."

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"Today I have not
won, but who can

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tell if I shall win tomorrow?

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So he would say to himself
going down the stairs.

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Then he won.

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Good thing, because in
the smoke of the room,

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he had found himself wagering
his grandfather's farm, which

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he did not own, and
forty thousand dollars

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cash, which he did.

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Oh, to tell her at
once, he went slapping

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down the sidewalk to
the nearest phone booth,

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5:00 AM rain pelting his neck.

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Hello.

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Her voice sounded broken into.

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Where were you last night?

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Dread slits his breath.

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Oh no, he can hear her
choosing another arrow now

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from the little quiver,
and anger goes straight

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up like trees in her voice,
holding his heart tall.

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I only feel clean,
he says suddenly,

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when I wake up with you.

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The seduction of
force is from below.

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With one finger,
the king of hell

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is writing her initials on
the glass like scalded things.

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So in travail, a husband's
legend glows and sings."

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